A Rose-tinted Life
by InkyStake
Summary: There were eleven of them that died in the war and inexplicably found themselves stuck on the fringes of the next great adventure. Being alive again isn't really all that fun when you can only mourn those left behind. But who's to say they can't make this world their own?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and RWBY do not belong to me.

* * *

We were walking in the endless void at the edge of death, silent and weary. We had been walking for years, maybe hours, or seconds. Our strength was flagging when we heard it, a plea that reached across the divide, a wish on a dying breath. It was a torn and ragged thing, desperate yet resigned to not being answered.

It was enough to anchor us.

It was enough to bring us into the world.

It was enough to save us.

We would answer his wish to the best of our abilities.

He would name us.

He would live through us.

It was an oath on our tired, unfortunate souls.

And the Rose tree bloomed with our entry into this world,

For good or ill.

* * *

I like to believe we made the world more interesting myself.


	2. Scyld

"Why am I five years old?!"

Bill Weasley frowned as his youngest brother yelled the question. Again. For the fifth time in twenty minutes. He focused on the rather deceptive item in his hand. "This bread is stale."

"That's all you're going to say?!"

Bill swallowed the bite of bread with little difficulty. It's not like they all hadn't had worse bread. It hadn't looked stale but it tasted like it had lain there more than a few days. "Well, it could mean there might not be a town near."

Wizarding houses can be built in the most remote of places, seeing as acquiring supplies would be just an apparation or a portkey away. But the old man – _Grandfather_ , his mind supplied involuntarily – didn't feel like a wizard. Some of the man's thoughts had entwined with his own as he dragged their souls into his orbit desperately – what little he had gleaned of this world sounded like half a nightmare.

"Should we go and check? Explore a bit?" Charlie stretched his arms about his head restlessly.

It looked like his companions hadn't been privy to their elderly savior's mind during the...transition.

Bill shook his head. "I want to know more about Grimm first before we venture out of here."

"Grimm?" Multiple eyes focused on him.

His lips stretched wryly. "It appears this world is beset by soulless monsters. Grandfather -" he stopped, the title having passed his lips unconsciously. The others shifted uneasily, letting him know that they had the same problem. Damned insistent old man. " _He_ was apparently one of the hunters that had the job of killing them. A protector."

It was Harry's lips that twisted a trifle bitterly, an expression so wrong in the soft face of a young child. "I suppose he wants us to continue in his footsteps?"

"There was a definite nudge in that direction, yes." Bill sighed. "But that is not what he asked. He wants the family to continue at least three generations after us."

"That's it?" Fred looked surprised. Bill still couldn't help but be amused by the fox ears twitching atop his brothers' heads. George smirked and flicked his second set of ears deliberately, tauntingly. Charlie's fingers moved toward them almost immediately. George squawked and batted the scratching fingers away.

Bill smiled despite himself. "He was the last of his family. No doubt it was one of his biggest regrets."

Harry nodded and relaxed a little. "So what do we do now?"

"We survive. We live. There is nothing else asked of us in this world."

And that was the kindest thing that Grandfather did for them.

* * *

Their first act in a new world was a funeral.

Bill felt it was a fitting bookend to their last life. They had all died in battle and had not the comfort of a goodbye. They could only offer up hopes for the living and well wishes to the dead.

Grandfather had given their restless souls a chance to live again. For that, Bill mused, giving the old man the title of _Grandfather_ and making sure his name lived for a few more generations was a small price to pay.

"We should bury him first." Fleur had a sympathetic admiration touching her blue eyes. "A man whose wish was powerful enough to reach beyond death should have the respect of a fitting funeral, no?"

They had come to be in a rose garden, a garden filled with the dead of Grandfather's blood. Their bodies were freely offered by the hopeful dead, flesh and bone and blood knitted together from the essence of the dead under them. Bill had an idea of the procedure and it was just his relief that they were not inhabiting actual corpses.

Upon their wakening, they had only the strength to wrap the old man's corpse in respectful white before they all succumbed to exhaustion, lying down carelessly in the unblooming garden. There was little energy for anything else.

They awoke in the chill of a breaking dawn and it seemed, once more, a fitting thing to start a funeral as the night waned and the day woke.

Bill flexed his fingers in front of his eyes, noting that they weren't so different from what his hands looked like from when he graduated Hogwarts.

Younger than his old body. Years younger. It was probably too much to give eleven people fully-grown bodies, even with the dead - the ancestors - giving the life of the soil on where they lay. Bill looked around. The carefully planted roses decayed on the graves. He would have to replace the roses or coax them back into green vibrancy.

He took a smooth rock and placed it on the fresh soil of the new grave at the foot of the ancient rose tree that curled around a ruin – the last of ten other similar rocks making the cairn that marked the spot where the last of a family of warriors lay.

A family whose legacy now rested on their shoulders.

* * *

Bill glanced up, feeling a measured gaze on him. He met the eyes of his wife and his lips curved. It is somehow adorable to see that seriously assessing look on a pre-adolescently childish face. "You're cute as a kid."

Her eyes narrowed at his teasing. "And you're untidily scrawny as a teen-ager," she retorted.

He laughed with slight hysterics and her gaze softened. "This is a mess, isn't it?" he asked.

"Only if it has to be."

He bent and dropped a kiss on her temple fondly. She lifted up on her toes and pressed her lips to his cheek.

He smiled. Then a thought came to him and he looked down on her sternly. "Nothing happens until you're seventeen."

She reddened. " _Dieu_ , what brought this on?"

"Really, love? You're the one asking that?"

The color on her cheeks darkened but she was undaunted. "Veela become active at fifteen." She crossed her arms. "Why should I wait longer than that?"

"You said you needed time to get used to your heritage after it came to the fore. Also, I want to court you properly."

She looked pleased, though she said, "My being Veela may have been changed in this world."

He ran a hand through his hair, the roots now black as night but with red flowing from half the length to the tips. "We may have been changed but possibly not that much. A lot of the courtship dances can't be conducted until both partners are of age. Consider it a precaution."

"That is...true."

He tugged at her blonde hair teasingly, whose tips were tinged the red-orange of a flickering flame. She had kept her eyes though, that summer sky blue he loved. "Don't look so down about this, it's really disturbing on the face of a ten-year old."

She pouted at him, then her face became contemplative. "Nine, I think."

"You know your age?"

"Vaguely, but not quite ten, I believe."

"That would make me sixteen." He had been de-aged ten years.

"What's this brother? Snatching babes out of the cradle? For shame, for shame."

"Shut it, toddler."

Fred gasped. "The hormones have addled your wit, oh elder brother. Toddler? By the hair on my gorgeously foxy ears, are we even related?"

"Dear elder sister, are you sure you want this fop?" George widened his eyes at Fleur, his fox ears twitching adorably.

Fleur recovered from the interruption and started threatening them in her native tongue. The twins laughed and still teasing, started backing away.

"Get back 'ere!"

"Why?" called George. "I wanna live!"

Bill watched them run around the garden that held the gravestones of Grandfather's lost family, dodging the rose bushes that marked the graves, and could not stop a smile. They may be all grown up mentally but it made him happy to see them acting their physical age. He wanted them happy in this new life and he would do everything to ensure it. He was the eldest, after all.

There were a lot of things that were gnawing away at the back of his mind, things that should be done, plans vaguely coalescing. But at this moment, he could believe that everything would be alright.

He blinked as a thought crossed his mind. If he was sixteen, it would make Ron six instead of five. He glanced at the adorably sullen faces of the four youngest pre-adolescents. Well, he wasn't telling them that right now, he cackled inwardly with the glee of the older brother well aware of the vast gulf between six and five in the mind of a child.

* * *

Arthur Weasley was not the firstborn son. He was not even third-borne. But Bill Weasley was the eldest grandson to a woman steeped in the lore of a family that, when everything was measured and done, had clawed and spat its way to the very edge of survival before it gave in with an insane screech and a mad laugh.

They did not have their names, not outside the mountain. What deals Grandfather made with the shades in the place of Between had given them their faces but not their bodies. But they were Family. It was all the consolation Bill had at this moment. They were Family and in this world, they were _alive_.

"Family is not in name," he said, carving the words into the reality they were in. "It is in heart and soul. We are still family and we are still together. This is enough."

Because Grandfather had torn away a part of them and patched it over with his dying hopes and dreams.

"Be polite, be kind. See and observe. Play to their conclusions, don't give anything away. Be true. Lie only if you must." He studied the others. They were looking back intently, trusting in his words. "Alright. Let's go see what this world has to offer, shall we?"

* * *

 **AN:** Another HP crossover. My RWBY fic wasn't taking off (had been making notes for nearly two years) so I decided to make a crossover, haha.


	3. Fleigen

Charlie was a pacifist.

He would advocate for the peaceful solution, not the solution that would cause the least conflict and the least lives but the one that would stop the fighting altogether. He'd been told that it wasn't a realistic ideal and that he didn't know how the real world worked but it was just how he was built.

If there was one thing he knew, however, it was that his family was not one to avoid war, to cower in their homes and ignore the suffering of others.

What luck they had, he thought bitterly, resignedly, to die at the conclusion of one war and come to life in the middle of another.

Their home was in a remote area, the nearest communities were four days away, but the newscasts on the local Mistrali channels still reached them, even if reception from the other kingdoms over the CCT was spotty.

He belted a satchel firmly over the sleeveless longcoat that fell past his knees. The coat wasn't quite as sturdy as the potion-treated and rune-woven protective clothing of Gaia but it approximated the standard-issue Auror robes in terms of durability and practicality. That is to say: easy to clean, comfortable, and would survive a dozen firefights.

Tonks once mentioned that Amelia Bones had ranted for an hour about Aurors who customized their robes for 'better' quality and material, as if the look of their robes would offer them more protection from malicious spells or objects. Sure the standard-issue Auror robes weren't made of silk but they were more suited to saving your life damnit.

Bloody ponces.

There was one feature of combat clothing in Remnant that was new to him though. The cloth used to make Huntsman garments was Aura-absorbent according to advertisements – it used the wearer's naturally emanating energy to increase protective qualities. Wizards didn't leak magic into the environment like Huntsmen did with Aura unless they were doing spells. If they did, magic-absorbent cloth would probably have revolutionized the clothing industry in Gaia.

There would be less successful assassinations among the high-born anyway.

He paused and sighed at the thought. That was the voice of his grandmother in him speaking. Cedrella Weasley had died the year after he went to Hogwarts. She'd loved playing with her numerous grandchildren; she'd been their primary tutor as children and her views had colored the minds of the first three children of Arthur and Molly Weasley. It was a shame that he and Bill hadn't realized that Percy had been too young to really understand her words until after their younger brother had entered the Ministry and broken with the family.

Percy knew better now. The Blacks were about power, but there are many permutations of power. To Cedrella Weasley nee Black the power to create personal choices was the most useful. It was that, how to accumulate that power, which she had taught her descendants.

It had been a year since his family had transitioned into Remnant. Bill had nearly killed himself from exhaustion making sure they knew everything they needed to know about the world before they really entered it, making sure they had enough resources, making sure they would have choice.

This choice, it was not one that Bill should have to deal with. His brother was stretched thin enough. It was Charlie's choice to go to war.

It was fortunate that the hotheads of the family were still physically pre-adolescent, he mused, or they would be out there already under the banner of the Faunus Revolution.

How could they not, with the twins' fox ears and Charlie's own feathery mane? The whole family would not stand for any of their own being called lesser beings, not even afforded the citizenship that Gaia begrudged the muggleborn.

Bill would not approve of his choice. Grandfather had named his elder brother Scyld after all, and for the old man's kindness, doubly so since Remnant was not ideal for a peaceful life, the eldest of them would do everything to live up to the name of protector. Even if only for the family.

Charlie loved his family too. Loved them with a fervent wish that they be able to live happily. If his joining the war was sufficient to prevent his younger brothers and sisters from being bloodied once more then he would become a warrior strong enough to end the war. He would war so that his family could know a longer peace. There were shadows enough in his family's eyes, shadows that he could only imagine.

Charlie had sat out most of the horrors of the Blood War abroad, where the fighting was not so visceral, campaigning for support in the Dragon Reserves. When he was part of a battle, most of it was scouting from air in his animagus form. He'd died on dragonback, high above the blood and gore of the battlefield.

From the news, this 'increasing aggressive conflict' between human and faunus was not yet war, but they all knew that was where it was going, seeing the parallels, and noting the increasing escalation between 'terrorist actions'. It was not yet a battlefield, but when it became one, Charlie would stop it, before it engulfed the rest, before the kids got involved. It was not an option here to stay as detached as he did before. Not this time.

He checked his weapons again. The elaborate bracer on his left arm would shift into a kite shield at the touch of his Aura. The falchion holstered at his left hip would extend into a broadsword if needed. There was a pistol holstered at the small of his back, already loaded. All these were buckled snugly and ready to use at a moment's notice. He wrapped a scarf around his neck and chin, allowing the trailing hem to fall over his satchel, protecting his supplies.

He took a breath and looked around. Castelrose, which was the name in the records to denote the hidden tower and its ancient rose garden, was quiet and softly serene in the light of the broken moon.

He turned to the tunnel carved into the mountain, the only easy way to access the hollow that was now their home. A caldera, said Hermione. The mouth of a dead volcano. It was probably once a shallow bowl, but had imploded, creating the cliffs and overarching natural stonework that protected Castelrose from airborne Grimm attack and discovery by flying ship. The implosion created a fertile niche within the mountain that, according to the family histories, once sustained fifty people for almost one whole year without resources coming in from outside. The tunnel took him five minutes to navigate, avoiding the traps and dead ends by memory. He paused at the end of the tunnel, where moonlight washed over him again.

"I can hear your breathing." He frowned into the shadows of the rocky pillars near the tunnel entrance.

A huff sounded from the darkness. Tonks stepped into sight and doffed her hood. He eyed the long daggers strapped to her thighs, the light armored clothing under the hooded cloak, the bag slung over a shoulder.

"I can't talk you out of this, Nym?"

She shrugged. "They'll be angrier if I let you go alone." She fell into step as he started down the pathless mountainside.

Even though he was a little irritated at her, he felt something coiled darkly inside him ease. Just having another of his family beside him raised his spirits, bolstered his resolve. He didn't realize he was so stressed about this until her presence relaxed him a little.

"You should know how to ask for help with these things," Tonks stretched her arms, working out the kinks in her shoulders. How long had she been waiting for him there? "coming from a big family and all."

A smile broke out on his face. "I was mostly used to asking Bill." Scyld, he reminded himself. Scyld, not Bill.

"Hah, yeah, that wouldn't have gone down well."

They were content with silence after that, walking down the mountain in the before-dawn cold. The moon was bright enough for Tonks to be comfortable with a steady but ground-eating pace. But Charlie strode forth surely, unbothered. His ability to see in the dark still fascinated him. He and the twins once spent hours after midnight awake and just walking around the mountains. He knew the paths even without the nightvision. It was just some hours before true dawn but it was best to get away cleanly before anyone woke.

"Thanks," Charlie said quietly after a while.

"I was getting bored anyway. I've read more books this year than I ever had in the last lifetime. My skin was starting to become papery."

He snickered. Percy and Hermione had insisted that they take the exams for educational advancement and Bill had backed them. The two most studious of them were hilariously disappointed that the General Education Certifications were taken at twelve years of age. It was bad enough that the three oldest of them had to cram six years of education into six months of study. Bill was unfairly gifted with books and had won high scores even with studying for the Advanced Academic Registers at the same time. He and Tonks were left with each other to commiserate over having kids younger than them be so terrible taskmasters.

Charlie glanced at Tonks. She had almost not accompanied them when Grandfather made his offer. But they were still together and they were still family. He nudged her with a playful elbow.

"You're coming so you wouldn't take those exams Bill took, aren't you?"

She smirked as she evaded and kicked lightly at his ankle.

"Shut up. He looked half-dead after those. I already took NEWTS once, I'm not taking them again. And it's Scyld now." Her eyes were alert as they approached the foothills. Bill, Fleur, and the twins were able to approximate an anti-Grimm ward using dust and runes but the protection only extended so far and didn't deter the more determined beasts. The foothills should be more infested than the mountain.

Charlie straightened, allowing his ears to analyze the noises of the night even as he grimaced internally at her quick correction. The names they had before were not meant for this world. They made a rule never to speak their old names outside Castelrose. It had been frightening, when Grandfather had given them new names.

It was still a little depressing. But he reminded himself, it was all in how you saw them. It was also a promise that in this world they would belong, that they would find a home. All they had to do was take it. Take it and protect it. Walking side by side with family in a forest filled with oddly lovely moonlight-dappled shadows, the bleak dread he felt at the path he was determined to walk wasn't so bad anymore.

* * *

 **AN:** I wrote this while thinking about Fan the Coals and that's where the pacifism is from. Uchiha Itachi. o.0 This isn't a kinslayer!Charlie fic though, no worries. It makes for interesting thoughts on AUs but not in this fic.

So Castelrose. Unoriginal, but I'm a fan of secret strongholds so it's a thing.

Charlie's a faunus here. And so are the twins. I based it mostly on if you're an animagus in Gaia, then you're a faunus in Remnant. Charlie likes animals so much he went off to live with dragons. Him passing off the chance to become an animagus seems weird. And the twins, once they learned where the Marauders got their nicknames, would've instantly tried to learn.

Veela are birds, I think but still humanoid. I don't know if the legends say they can shapeshift into full animal-mode so Fleur isn't a faunus. If she was though, she'd be a raptor, fierce and keen-eyed.


	4. Zhen

After living with the chill of Northern Anima, Tonks never thought the southern part of the continent would be so hot. Humid, and even the famous winds that supposedly swept down from the icy north dissipated and stagnated as they reached the south. Even in twilight, the heat was nearly unbearable.

Or maybe that was because she'd been running for nearly an hour now.

She flicked her hair out of her face as she raced through the trees, her Semblance hiding her from sight and sound.

But not from scent.

A shadow moved in the shade of a copse to challenge her intrusion and she quickly whistled one of the dozen birdcalls afforded to couriers of her specific designation. _Urgent message to commander, assist at all cost._

The shadow fell back, no doubt to use his communication device to alert the rest of the lookouts on her way. She sped through the rest of the guard positions unchallenged.

She may not be as fast as some of her Faunus comrades with unlocked Aura but she could maintain a respectable speed for a respectable amount of time. She was the fastest human runner in the Revolution, and maybe in the top twenty overall if it came down to that.

It was another ten minutes before she entered the camp proper. She pushed aside the cloth that separated the command area from the rest of the tent. Well, it was more the command _cave_ but details.

The leaders of the camp were already there with the camp chief. She dropped her Semblance and pulled down the cloth mask that stretched over the lower part of her face.

"Kazegami," the chief greeted, expectantly. Kazegami – the codename was given to her when she first started solo missions without Charlie.

She grinned at the familiar grumpy look on his face. The chief made a good show of constant irritability but he cared for the people who fought under his leadership. "Chief, howzit going?"

He grimaced at her. "Ya really want to know?"

"Let me brighten your day then." She reached into her pouch for the carefully stowed datachip. "A defector entered the Garwat Pass camp two days ago."

He turned over the datachip she offered in his fingers. "Oh?"

"He had what he says are the defense and architectural plans for Fort Castle."

The chief's eyes sharpened, the scales running down the side of his face flashing as the muscles of his eyes moved. "How good is this intelligence?"

"As far as we can tell, it's real. At least, tentative forays say yes. Obviously we couldn't test them extensively."

"Obviously," he murmured, slotting the datachip into his tablet, contemplating the mass of lines that bloomed on his screen. "And the defector? How believable is he?"

"He was accompanied by a faunus, Larta Saffron and a kid that looked like him and had her horns. It looks legit, chief."

He smirked at her. "Personal opinion?"

She shrugged. "I did a bit of skulking around."

One of the two leaders flanking the chief laughed. "You know, you do it almost better than any faunus I've seen."

Tonks gasped exaggeratedly and put a hand dramatically on her chest. "Be still my heart, a compliment. Is this the start of the forbidden fraternization in the ranks?"

"Forbidden? Do we look like human military?" grunted the other leader, who had ram horns curling around his ears.

"Are you enabling?" countered the other with a grin. "We could always invite dear Kazegami here to fun night."

"Shut your mouth, you."

Tonks and the chief, who was twice her age, snickered. Then Tonks put out a hand with an impish grin and the grumpy look returned to the chief's face. "Pay up, chief."

Advan pinkened, the color going all the way to the base of his curling horns and he valiantly tried to change the subject as their commander tossed a lien card goodnaturedly in Tonks' direction. "You had anything else?"

Tonks took pity on him, even if he was a bastard who didn't trust humans, and started talking. "Yeah, Verde's assault on the supply convoy near Fort Tyre really set them back. There's talk of reinforcements from Atlas coming in. Three to seven thousand troops and another general."

"Ho? They're finally taking us seriously, after all these years?" He eyed the architectural renderings of Fort Castle contemplatively. "They're gearing for a major offensive, possibly. Zhen, we're going to give it to them, get me some definite numbers on their forces and supplies. Advan, tell the others to build a line of camps closer to Fort Castle. Visible, as many people as possible without compromising us."

"You're going to bait them?"

"They just reinforced, they're well-fed and well-supplied. The new general will be wanting to be the one to end this war. Well, let's show them our 'weakness', eh? Coor, we need the new recruits combat ready sooner. They can hold the visible camps."

Coor made a sound of protest. "We can't just hand them guns and point them at the other side, chief."

"We're not Atlas military," smirked Tonks at Advan, who rolled his eyes at her unsubtle dare. He refrained from a favored, and famous around the barracks, rant about the other side being mostly cannon fodder.

"We also don't have the dust stores to make ammo for that many guns."

"That's not what I'm saying," sighed Chief Nyanza, chief-commander and primary coordinator for the revolutionaries in Southern Anima.

"I could maybe shave a few weeks off," Coor frowned. "Any more than that and the recruits would flounder. The human recruits especially. Unless we unlock their Aura..."

"We'd be swamped in Grimm every battle. We're losing too many people to the monsters as it is. We don't have the people to train them." The Chief leaned back on his chair. It was acceptable to unlock Auras of all their revolutionaries just a year and a half ago, when all they needed were smaller strike teams. But the war had escalated in the last year from small skirmishes within kingdom borders to needing actual battlefields. Now, they needed an army to combat the kingdoms' response.

Like the opposing armies, the only ones with unlocked Auras on the battlefield were those who already had trained control of their Aura before joining the war effort, which was mostly officers plus the Huntsmen and Huntresses who had joined the war.

People with unlocked Aura were more easily sensed by Grimm because emotions subconsciously filtered into a person's Auric field. Unless the person learned to control their Aura, the unconstrained emotions spiking around a battlefield, a place already susceptible to negative emotions, would make the area more dangerous that it already was. No one wanted to draw a horde of Grimm into a battlefield – an unspoken agreement between all factions.

Controlling one's Aura reliably took more than the three months of basic training every recruit was put into. Not to mention, even trained Aura users can lose control in a battlefield.

Tonks' Aura had unlocked upon her entry into the world, same with all her family. It was weird at first but the concept of directing internal energies to carry out your will was something not unfamiliar to them. Fleur made them learn the exercises that helped her get used to her Veela heritage, taught them all the little things her parents had patiently taught to her.

Tonks knew teaching them these things made Fleur happy, that others would know something of her history and childhood, so the world she left behind would not be forgotten. Tonks was familiar with the feeling of missing important things and people too, so she learned diligently beside the rest of them.

Those teachings made Charlie and Tonks two of the more valuable recruits of the revolution. They blew through training and were conveyed to the front lines just two months after they left Castelrose. A month or so after that, in a firefight where her squad was caught between a Mistrali protected convoy and a large pack of Beowolves, Tonks unlocked her Semblance. She called it 'cloak mode', as it made her invisible.

It helped her squad capture the convoy, with prisoners neatly knocked unconscious. It didn't help against the Grimm that had more senses than just sight though and she lost two comrades that day.

That had been nearly a year ago, and her superiors took the opportunity to train her in infiltration and spycraft. It was amusing and more than a little interesting, considering her last life. Faunus senses, when trained, could be used to detect deceptions somewhat reliably and her comrades gave a lot of helpful advice. Of course, there was also a lot of the less helpful hooting when they ferreted out the little things that made her disguises fail. She never thought about all the little things her former metamorphing ability simply did instinctively that made her an accomplished reconnaissance and infiltration specialist as an Auror. Tonks thought she was a good observer before; now, even without the evolved form of her Semblance which muffled the sounds she made as well, she was more stealthy than the great majority of humans and a lot of the faunus as well.

It was an odd thing to be known for (or not-known for, as her identity was known only to high command and if any faunus recognized her scent they had the good sense to keep it to themselves) seeing that she was formerly the clumsy Auror with the loudly colorful hair.

"What are you planning, chief?"

Tonks was brought back to the conversation with Coor's question.

Chief Nyanza smiled, teeth showing. The scales on his face caught the light and made it look like pieces of his coffee-colored face were gone. It reminded Tonks painfully of her old mentor, right down to the bloodthirsty grin. "I want that fort."

Tonks let out a startled laugh. "You think big, boss." Most of their tactics had been hit and run guerilla warfare. This was so far from the usual that both leaders were looking at him like he lost his mind.

He tapped the datachip on the table. "It isn't everyday an opportunity like this drops out of the sky."

"One might say never," offered Advan gruffly.

"A chance we have to take. Kazegami, you have a month at most. Head out tomorrow and bring me what you can."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and your cousin's squad made camp this morning."

Tonks looked startled. Then gleeful, if a bit concerned. Charlie wasn't supposed to be here until next week. Something must have happened. She was worried.

Charlie had been becoming more and more quiet as they were integrated into the Revolution. He laughed and joked still, which made her happy. But she knew he was not made for this and could not wait for the end of this war. This opportunity, as the chief had called it, may be the one chance they had at a decisive victory instead of pouring more and more blood into escalating conflicts. Maybe then they would be able to go home. "Thanks," she called back as she made a beeline for the exit, intent on the part of the cave system that housed the barracks.

She blinked as Advan fell into step beside her. Shouldn't he be with Coor, trying to talk the chief out of ordering a siege? She bit back a snarky line and went for polite instead. She was too tired to cross wits with the faunus leader. "Sir."

"Why do you fight for us?"

That was unexpected. "Er, probably the same reason most humans in the revolution fight."

"Many balk at the thought of fighting their own race, content with supporting the cause away from the bloodshed. You do not. You trust your self so easily to my people."

Most people probably didn't fight and live beside goblins, centaurs, and house elves in another life, she thought. Most people didn't watch as their friend and cousin frayed at the edges while wholly committing himself into a war he did not want. All she could do to help him was commit herself to the cause right beside him.

"You know three of my cousins are faunus, right?" She still wondered why there were not four, since Fleur should have been some kind of bird even without an animagus form. Also, why was the faunus asking her this now? She had been assigned to this command months ago.

"They have been raised in human towns as humans and are unknowing of their people's custom."

Oh, that was true. There had been a few kerfuffles due to cultural difference in the first month, until she and Charlie learned the basics. Their explanation was that they weren't raised by faunus and people understood. A number pitied them enough to teach them things faunus kids learned at their Elder's knees.

A good deal of the culture was pragmatic, near-mercenary, tempered by an odd honor. Faunus senses meant that few things were kept secret in any group and most kinds of politeness involved willfully ignoring things that weren't specifically brought up in conversation as long as it didn't adversely affect effectiveness. Conversely, the lack of secrecy made the faunus somewhat more open with more things that humans generally kept to themselves.

In a military camp where most kinds of politeness were left on the wayside in return for practicality, things could get really annoying. She had to personally beat down a lot of her fellow recruits before they knew her enough to respect her.

If it worked, it worked. If you had to do something, it must be done with some sort of skill and for not-wasteful reasons – it might save you an asskicking. Do as you will if you want but if you're stupid, you deserve the asskicking.

There was a lot of asskicking involved.

It made for interesting gambling nights.

She peered at her ram-horned companion. He wasn't being a bastard for once, so she answered.

"I had a husband once," she said conversationally, as if the words did not tear away at a scabbed-over rip inside her. "He was older, a scholar, he loved to read. What he called his 'wolf' made him wary of what he could do to me. I had to pursue him, you know, the idiot."

Advan stared at her. She stared back. They had stopped in the middle of the corridor. Her eyes showed all the desolation she felt as she met his gaze. "I had a husband once, and a child. I fight so that no children would be raised in fear of the world."

For Remus, who was a werewolf bitten as a child. For herself, who was a metamorphmagus. For Harry, who was placed with bigots. For Dobby, who had been taught to compulsively hurt himself. For Flitwick, born part-goblin in a community of wizards. All children who grew up hiding the truth of themselves because the world would have poked and prodded and jeered cruelly. And while her Teddy was not a werewolf, being known as the son of one wasn't an easy life.

She started walking again, uncaring that there were other ears in the corridor or that she looked too young to have married. Her truth was what it was. Advan stared at her back for a moment, then jogged to walk beside her in a silence that, while not entirely comfortable, was less tense than their usual encounters.

* * *

 **AN:** When were scrolls invented anyway? This is around 30 years before canon start. I get the Chief to use tablets because it's a possible precursor of the scroll. I wanted to call them 'datapads' but that's too Star Wars and there are no space aliens in RWBY. Unless the Grimm were an alien virus that spread when a meteorite struck the moon and broke it or something. Also, revolutions don't get cutting-edge tech.

Anyway, viva la revolucion overtones. Canon says Fort Castle happened three years into the war. Is that three years of battles or three years since the 'unrest' started making news? They must have backers or else how could they could supply and field a three-year war? Fairly sure it has been brewing for some time either way, so it starts with streetfights, then bombings, then strike teams, mostly within kingdom borders before it spills out to battlefields. In this fic, they've been mostly playing hide and seek until the kingdoms started actually fielding armies, which happened some months after Charlie and Tonks enlisted.

This is set in Mistral because I wanted a venue other than Vale. Setting it in Atlas would be a headache. Brainfreeze in other words. And Vacuoans are too 'let live or let die' to want prolonged conflict that would mess with practical everyday business too much. If someone starts something in Vacuo there's gonna be shotgun-fire and 'Git off mah sand-lawn! Yer agitatin' mah chicken-snakes!' or something like that.


	5. Constan

Disclaimer: RWBY and Harry Potter belong to their respective creators.

* * *

Percy deflected the spear that was coming for him with a turn of the wrist and thanked providence that Bill had taken it on himself to complete his swordmastery at the behest of their grandmother.

Not that Percy was any good at swordwielding. He'd stopped learning when Grandmother Cedrella died, and the money earmarked for his tutors was added to his Hogwarts tuition savings.

He'd remembered the basic footwork and the stances and it was enough to build a foundation on but he was still shit at swordwork. It was proved a moment later when he thudded to the ground on his back, wheezing.

"You've gotten better."

"Not good enough," he breathed, not bothering to get up.

Boyd Valkyrie laughed. "Well, this is how I repay you in hand to hand, I suppose. Come on, Constan, another round. How can you become a Huntsman if you let this little thing stop you, eh?"

Percy sat up with a groan, his Aura already easing his bruises. "You know I'm not planning to be a Huntsman, right?"

"Why are you in a combat school, then?"

"I'm going to be a soldier. My weapon skills aren't high enough for the Academy." He sighed and studied his blond friend. "You're entering the Academy?"

Boyd nodded excitedly. "Mr. Carnagione says I just have to make a good showing at the end of year spar and I'm all set."

"Congratulations, Boyd. Your grades must be really good if it's just the spar you're waiting for."

The irrepressible boy laughed. "All thanks to your study sessions! And you know your grades are the highest in school right?"

"I'm pretty sure Galathe and Zib have me beat."

Boyd shrugged. "Galathe has no life and Zibeon thinks books are relaxing. You actually spar with me, so you have them both beat."

"Oh sure," Percy rolled his eyes fondly as he got into a stance, sword ready. "I'm better just because you fling me around sometimes? I bask in your muscle-headed proximity."

"Of course!" Boyd preened. "People don't like sparring with me for some reason."

"Because you're one of the best fighters in school and you hit very hard." Percy was grateful for Aura or his body would be a mass of bruises every spar and his sword would need to be replaced every week.

"That's not a reason."

"Not everyone's a combat nut, Valkyrie," called Zib from the sidelines.

"Everyone sucks then."

Percy laughed and charged his friend, feinting and dashing under the spear's guard. Boyd smirked as the blow was deflected then blinked as his Aura dipped noticeably.

It was Percy's turn to smirk, retracting his fist swiftly and flipping away with graceful ease. "Touche."

* * *

All in all, Percy didn't really expect to enjoy combat school. He'd enlisted in the Atlesian military because they paid well for Aura-adepts and he'd been at loose ends as to what to do after acing his Advanced Academic Registers.

He could have applied to a good university but that would've just cost money they didn't need to spend. Scholarships were given to people who worked for years to apply for the best; they weren't given to brats from outside the kingdoms whose academics were limited to Certifications unless the person demonstrated great skill or talent.

Paperwork-ninja skills and the ability to memorize a great deal of data in a short time were not scholarship-worthy, even if Percy was proud of his hardwon bureaucratic talents.

The army recruiter he talked to accepted his enlistment but he was shuffled into combat school anyways. It was fortunate that the Atlas Council needed to replenish their army and decreed a five-year recruitment drive which included acceptance for citizens of their long-time ally Mistral. For Percy, that meant combat school core classes were free if he passed the entrance exams – a privilege generally given only to Atlas-born students.

The recruiter said that if he entered combat school as an enlisted private, he could stay in the barracks while on half-pay. With the bloodshed of what was now officially termed the Faunus Rights Revolution ending two years before he enlisted, there was no need to fast-track recruits to the front lines – especially if they were only fifteen years old.

So he spent two years in one of the Atlesian combat schools as a Private, with his free time taken up at the barracks doing drills and patrols. The other privates who like himself were pushed into combat school for basic training were generally tapped as general dogsbodies by the officers and higher-ranked soldiers there, ostensibly to learn more about Atlesian military hierarchy.

He'd been recommended into Atlas Academy at graduation on the strength of his academics and his Aura skills but he'd had to decline. Atlas Academy was expensive, though student costs were subsidized to an extent. He'd also learned that Atlas Huntsmen were behooved to work exclusively on Atlas Council sanctioned missions for two years before they were released to take on what contracts they wanted.

The regular military was more flexible in terms of the possibility of leaving and he really wasn't that interested in combat. He'd been planning to become an officer in logistics, or an analyst. He wasn't as adrenaline-addicted as some of his family. Additionally, soldiers didn't take as many risks as Huntsmen even if their combat training didn't come close to Huntsman standard.

He wasn't sure the family could take a loss of a member at this point. They'd all agreed that combat training was essential anyway. Percy was simply taking calculated risks for better data and resources.

So even if his weapons combat wasn't noteworthy, he still knew how to fight. He wasn't going to be the flabby paper-pusher he was in Gaia. While his swordwork needed refinement according to his instructors, he was devastating at hand-to-hand.

For a wizard who had not once in his adulthood thrown a punch in anger, it was surprising. Had he channeled the frustrations of his former life into unarmed Aura combat, so different from wizardly tradition?

In any case, it was a good thing. As an Aura-adept with top grades, he was paid more as incentive to stay with the army. He put in a good enough showing to be given the rank of Corporal upon graduating at seventeen years of age and in charge of five other recent graduates.

Leadership was odd to Percy. He didn't have the natural charisma of Bill and Harry or even the twins but he was clever and not unintelligent. His superiors watched as he listened and he learned, tempered by a maturity beyond his seeming age according to the notes on his brief.

Percy tried to strike a balance between what his men thought a good leader would be, what his superiors thought a good leader would be, and what he saw or experienced of leadership in his two lives. Surprisingly, being a politician's assistant in another life was incredibly helpful – he didn't realize that part of being a good leader was knowing how to benignly manipulate the men under your command. For one who'd always followed, leadership was frightening. It was also, in some bizarre manner, rather freeing.

It was bizarre partly because he knew he was just on the low rung of a hierarchy and he really didn't have all that much freedom as a grunt. Bill smirked at him from a terminal screen during one of their weekly calls when he'd tried to voice the oddness he felt.

He tapped impatiently on the crystal screen as his brother smiled in that smug, knowing way all older brothers had. He debated swiping the disconnect button. One good thing about the technology so advanced in this world, it had a speedy efficiency that appealed to him; shutting down a floo call did not have the same quick finality or satisfaction.

"What?" he frowned at Bill.

"You _like_ being structured," his brother said. "You joined the Ministry because you wanted Mum off your back and some excitement. At the time, things were chaotic. Even if you got the position you wanted, it didn't deliver satisfaction considering the corruption inherent in those offices."

"Oh." Percy blinked. He'd entered the Office of International Cooperation because he didn't want a post that was tied to Britain and being a diplomat was somewhat attractive.

Oh. The life he thought he chose then was...

The last time, his choice was tinged with years of being the only one their mother could rant to, despite him being the generally over-looked child, since all the rest ran away. Even his birthday was less a big deal to his family than the rest of his siblings' birth celebrations, overshadowed as Aug 22 was by Ginny's Aug 11 birthday. The celebration of the youngest and only girl was more looked forward to than a simple third son's. He'd wanted to make his mother look at him proudly even as a part of him wanted to leave and make his own place in the world like Bill and Charlie had.

The last time, his being accepted into the Ministry was adversely colored by his family's political stance. The office of International Magical Cooperation was a dead-end job, considering that magical nations had been somewhat insular. He'd seen it as a stepping-stone to the ICW but looking back, he knew he would never had gotten the recommendations needed.

The last time, his promotion to Minister's aide was made in contempt of him, to hold him hostage against his family, and not because of his work.

The last time, his triumphs were not his at all.

Oh. Bill laughed at his embarrassment at not putting it together like that.

"Shut up, Scyld."

Bill grinned at him. "So you're doing well, I see. I'm glad."

"Thanks," he muttered. The others had not understood his choice to enter the military, Charlie especially. Hadn't there been enough war? Tonks had looked exasperated but had eventually hugged him when he left, with a directive to stay safe. Bill worried but had not stopped him, advising him to be cautious and careful.

"How are things with your section? The last time I called you looked like you were going to tear your hair out because of them."

Percy smiled sheepishly. "I was thinking like Crouch. It wasn't so serious."

"The grouch? I hope you won't make it a habit." Bill huffed another laugh and smiled widely. "I was a bit worried for a while but the military's good for you. You smile more."

"Yes, I...I think I'm happier."

"Good. That one officer still wanting you to enroll in the Academy?"

"He's backed off since I was promoted."

"Congratulations again!"

"It was a month ago already."

"But we're so proud! There hasn't been an army officer in the family since Great-grandfather Prewett. We should've celebrated."

"I'm a non-comissioned officer. Great-grandfather was a general. You're overreacting. Don't be like Mum."

Bill gasped and lifted his hands dramatically to his chest. "Don't be mean, little brother. I tell you, I do not have the lungs to be Mum."

Percy laughed. "You look like you're getting the hair, at least."

"Don't remind me." Ever since Bill decided to grow his hair long again, his hair refused to be the sleekly straight locks he sported formerly but insisted on curling into a slightly unmanageable mane. Fleur thought it looked adorable and intimidating and promptly decided he was her lion. Her black and red lion.

The rest of them thought it was hilarious.

"How are the rest, by the way? You said something about blacksmiths?"

"Fierus. He's been spending time visiting the local smiths."

"Really?" Not quite the profession he thought Harry would gravitate to. "He did say he wanted something to do with his hands. I thought he was joining the twins in their venture."

"That was Stanz who was considering it. Want to talk to them? They just came in."

"Yes please."

Bill grinned at him again and leaned away from the screen to call someone. Percy waited, amused at the uncharacteristic anticipation in him. It was not so long ago that he forgot how painful it was that every communication between him and his family was strained.

"Zan!" Hermione appeared on-screen, eyes excited and lips already starting to babble. He smiled and listened, contentment thrumming through him as Harry pushed his face next to hers and begun refuting the 'outlandish accusations' she was slinging around. Then there was a thump and two yelps as they both disappeared from the screen.

He straightened in alarm until Ron leaned into view with a sly smile. "Hey Zan. How are you?"

"You kicked the chair out from under them, didn't you?"

"They were hogging you."

"You have my schedule, you know. You can call anytime I'm in the barracks."

"But then I wouldn't have opportunities to kick chairs out from under people." Ron protested, the most innocent look on his face. There was a battlecry and two bodies crashed into Ron with Semblances active, leaving only a whirl of rose petals to Percy's eyes.

A hand righted the chair on-screen and a bright-eyed girl sat down on it, a mischievous smile on her face. "Hey Sergeant Zan," she chirped. "How are you doing? That's the second promotion in two years, right? Does that mean you'll get promoted every year? How cold is it there? When's your next leave?"

Percy laughed lightly. "I'm good. No, promotion isn't every year. Weather-proof clothing is a thing here. I'll be home next month for a few days barring sudden missions."

Ginny nodded and they settled into an intense discussion regarding the kingdom with the only military in Remnant and the many Grimm he had encountered at the walls and the places he'd been posted to over the years.

She told him of Harry falling in love with anvils; Hermione getting into the muggle version of potions; Bill thinking of permanently buying the house they were renting in the more agreeably mild weather of Southern Anima; Ron thinking about food as a career rather than joining Fred's crazy inventing business idea which George was researching with Fleur; Charlie and Tonks seeming like they were courting the same woman at the same time and seriously, what was happening, it looked like that double-courtship was actually working.

Percy smiled. His family was finally healing from scars old and new. It had taken him some time to know it conclusively, but it was a fact inherent to his life now: as long as they were together, they were stronger.

* * *

 **AN:** Any idea when Atlas started pressing their Huntsmen into the Specialist branch? Qrow made it sound like it happened in his generation of Huntsmen, and STRQ aren't even Hunting Academy age in this chapter. I don't know so in this chapter, Atlas doesn't have Specialists yet.

The Atlas military is interesting, in some ways. It offers army services to the other kingdoms, considering it's the only standing military. So it's like a security company backed by the Atlesian government. Treaties between the kingdoms must be interesting, or did Atlas sneak in a military monopoly despite losing the Great War?

In this fic, the Faunus Revolution ended with concessions to the faunus because Mistral fielded green recruits and Atlas really wasn't ready for a guerilla war. Also because everybody and their faunus-hating grandmothers thought that 'sub-humans' couldn't win against the kingdoms.

Atlas has the fewest population of the four kingdoms, too, so in retrospect, a military would make up for having to rely on fewer native Huntsman recruits. So the recruitment drive that Percy took advantage of was part of an initiative to massively increase military strength so losing a 'revolution' to non-citizens that don't even have a kingdom doesn't happen again.

I say the surprise win of the Faunus Revolution was the reason that the canon Atlas military was so large and well-funded, along with the fact that Jacques Gele was a soldier that fought in the war, or he had relatives that did so, which is the reason he's a bigoted jerk. Being night-blind and fighting things that disappeared when you blinked and seeing your people cut down by shadows is deeply traumatic. Atlas military being the primary opponent at Fort Castle means there's an entire generation of Atlas citizens possibly developing faunus-triggered PTSD. Fear leads to anger.


End file.
